Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals! novel Chapter 122

Chapter 122: 122. Sweet Dreams II

Maisie

"You," I said to them. "I always dream about you."

Soren leaned back in the chair, waiting, but drunk as I was on the pheromones in the air, I couldn’t bring myself to speak the atrocious words. Understanding that that was all I would ever give them, Soren relented.

He pulled his own cock free, the movement managing to still be graceful for something so filthy, and my mouth and insides watered at the sight of him, curved slightly toward his belly.

His head rested back against the chair. "Two fingers," he rasped. "Push them inside. Let us see you fuck yourself." He wrapped his hand around himself and squeezed. "Please, love."

I slid two fingers into my entrance.

The sound that escaped my throat wasn’t quite moan. It was wetter than that. Needier. My inner walls gripped my fingers greedily, so slick that my fingers moved easily, squelching as I pumped them deeper.

"That’s it. Exactly how I taught you," Quinlan said with a gentleness that made me shiver. His hand had moved to his belt. He was undoing it slowly, the leather sliding through the buckle with a sound that went straight to my clit. "Hook them in."

I obeyed without thought, my fingers pumping frantically, my palm grinding against my clit with every thrust. And when I hooked them, I cried out.

Oh god.

"She likes that," Mercer hissed. His eyes were flashing like he couldn’t decide which he wanted to be. Man. Beast. Man. He’d taken himself out too and I moaned as he stroked, his hips bucking into his fist. "Do that again."

I did. My wrist worked faster, fingers curling to hit a spot that made sparks shoot behind my eyes. My other hand flew to my breast, kneading, pinching my nipple until the pain blurred into pleasure. I was gasping, her thighs trembling, and the wet rhythmic sounds of stroking flesh and suction filled the room.

My breasts swung with the motion, and I caught myself wishing someone was there to suck them, to bite them, nip them.

"Good girl," Quinlan praised, grunting harshly as he thrusted into his hand. I was so entranced, watching the movement of his tip disappearing into the circle of his fist and thrusting back out that I barely heard his next words. "Now add another finger."

Three fingers. The stretch made me sob. My inner walls resisted for a moment, the muscles fluttering, and then yielded. I was so full. Not full enough. Not even close to full enough.

My gaze found them. Mercer’s near manic expression and the flare of his nostrils. Soren’s serene look and wild eyes. The merciless darkness in Quinlan’s eyes. Jericho’s lost expression as he watched my fingers push in and out of me. And my gaze went lower. In that same order. Jericho was the largest and my insides clamped tight as I imagined being impaled with him again. I imagined Soren’s facade cracking, watching him lose himself inside me. And Quinlan... goddess, I wanted to see all of him, all of that demon he trapped underneath that false look of calmness. I wanted his fingers around my throat, bruising my skin, my wrists as he ruined me. I wanted Mercer to fuck me with all that rage he kept inside. I wanted him to rid the fear that he would—could—hurt me, and come at me with everything. My vision tunneled on the pre-cum dripping from Mercer’s tip to the floor and I whimpered.

"She wants it," Soren said. He was breathing hard, his fist moving in short, tight strokes. "She wants us to fill her up, don’t you, Adams? Every hole. Every inch."

"Yes," I heard herself gasp. "Yes. Yes, please."

"Quinn," Soren said, and Quinn pushed off the wall. In a split second, he’d pulled me off the bed and onto my knees.

"Oui. Take it. Take all of it." He petted my hair, my faced, cupped me softly. His fingers were trembling. From restraint. He was holding back.

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